Foxheart
by Sanguinity
Summary: WindClan makes the decision to take in three young foxes and raise them. When a terrible danger threatens, the destiny of Skycub, Sparrowcub and Coppercub is tangled up with the destiny of the Clan. Rated K plus to be safe!
1. Into New Lands

**A/N: Yay. A new story. Longer, especially the first chapt. I might not update very frequently though...**

* * *

The night settled slowly across the moorlands, stretching lazily over the expanse of amber field that faded to a misty grey in the moonlight. There were stars in the sky, bright and clear, watching over the land, seeing, seeing... 

Two dark shapes bounded through the heather and gorse and bracken. One ran ahead and circled back again, ears pricked and alert. The other travelled more slowly, crouching low in the plants, her round belly and bushy tail brushing the ground.

They were too large for cats, too small for dogs. Amber eyes gleamed above pointed muzzles, but the foxes carried no malice. All they wanted was a home - for themselves, and for their cubs.

The dog-fox returned to his mate, padding beside her. "This place is good, yes. Plenty of prey - plenty of food. There are cats, but they probably will not disturb us. We can protect our cubs from them, easily. If it satisfies you, Amber..."

She tilted her head to one side, breathing the sweet night air. "Yes. It is good."

They found an empty badger set, hidden by a gorse bush. It was perfect - deep and cleanly dug, with two exits, uninhabited with only a faint lingering musky scent that told them of its original residents.

That was where their cubs were born.

* * *

As the morning sun's rays warmed the moor, Stonestar emerged from his den, huge grey paws padding soundlessly across the well-trodden soil. The powerful leader bounded up to the top of the Tallrock and yowled to summon his Clan. A skinny tabby warrior emerged from the cleft behind him and followed him up. 

"All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather here beneath the Tallrock for a Clan meeting!"

His amber gaze swept the cats of WindClan.

"Swiftstep, tell us what the dawn patrol found."

The warrior stepped forward, his brown ears twitching nervously.

"Greenfern, Larkwing, Berrypaw and I were along the river, headed towards the Twoleg farms. Larkwing was testing Berrypaw on what she could smell when she scented fox. It was fresh. We followed it and found a den; there's maybe a male and female with cubs."

The listening cats broke into murmurs of unease, heads shifting and muscles tensing. "Our kits are in danger!" "Those creatures will steal our prey." "Vicious brutes, the lot of them!"

The grey leader quieted them with a wave of his tail. "WindClan. I'm sure I do not need to tell you what a danger the foxes are to us. They must be driven out as soon as possible and not be allowed to raise their cubs on our territory."

He bared his teeth. "A patrol of warriors will be sent to drive them out."

The deputy - Goldenstripe, a wiry tabby, sprang to her paws. "With your permission, Stonestar, I'll lead the patrol."

He nodded to her. "You may choose your cats and leave at sunhigh. No apprentices, mind - it's too dangerous."

As Stonestar descended from the rock, the pale golden she-cat looked around, narrowing her green eyes. The Clan waited expectantly.

"Swiftstep, Dunpelt, Longwhisker and Burntfur will come with me. Get your strength up, we're gong soon."

The meeting dispersed with excited chatter and a sense of expectation, maybe even a little fear. Foxes were bad. They stole prey and took kits. They were quick and cunning and often deadly.

* * *

At sunhigh, the warriors gathered at the camp entrance. Goldenstripe looked them over calmly. "I don't have to warn you of the danger," she meowed, echoing Stonestar's words. "You all know full well. All I can say is: fight your best and we'll send those foxes crying out of here like kits for their mother." 

A ripple of amusement passed through the warriors. They followed the deputy, as she turned and bounded out of the camp. Calls of "Good luck!" and "Good fighting!" rang out after them.

They bounded over the territory, led by Goldenstripe and Swiftstep because he knew where the den was. When he slowed to a stop and fell into a crouch, they followed. The brown warrior pointed with his ears towards a large gorse bush. "Over there." His voice was a hoarse whisper. Fox scent hung heavy in the ear.

Goldenstripe meowed, in a low voice, "Swiftstep, Burntfur and Longwhisker - find the back exit and guard it. Dunpelt and I will enter from the front.

When all were ready, the deputy slid silently forward, low against the ground. Her eartips barely brushed the tunnel entrance as she ducked into the gloom, her eyes quickly adjusting. Dunpelt, behind her, stifled a sneeze - the smell was almost overpowering.

Straining, Goldenstripe heard movement below, then a low growl. She'd dealt with foxes before - she knew the male would probably defend his den while the female escaped with kits.

She was ready when he came at her, fangs bared, driving at her neck. Her warrior training took over - she barrelled forward, bearing the fox over and onto his back, digging her claws into the red fur. They tumbled together, snapping and snarling, onto the floor of the den.

Goldenstripe was underneath, now; she felt a flash of pain as the teeth bit into her ear, taking a sizeable chunk out of it. She retaliated by clawing at the creature's belly with her back legs - he only had fangs, but she had fangs _and_ claws. Then Dunpelt leapt into the fray, latching on to the fox's shoulders and dragging it off the deputy. It staggered to its paws, narrow yellow eyes glaring in fury and fear, then launched itself at them. In a split second, the warriors' eyes met and they made the descision- they would have to kill it, or it would kill them. They dived aside, one to the left and one to the right, then attacked together, forcing it back against the wall. It was doomed and it knew it.

Goldenstripe lunged forward and sank her teeth into its throat. Its last breath rattled out of it, quietly.

They stood and looked down at the fox. It looked smaller, somehow, now that it was dead. Blood leaked from its many wounds, staining the red fur even redder.

The deputy realised she'd been holding her breath. She found her voice. "Are you all right?"

Dunpelt nodded. Blood stained his face from a wound above his eye and he was limping, but there wasn't anything very serious. "You're worse off than me."

She shrugged. Yes, her wounds did hurt badly. Her left paw felt - crushed, the fox must have bitten it. There were bloody bite marks all over her. And she was pretty sure she was going to have a permanent nick in her ear.

But she would be fine.

"We'd better check on the others."

They scrambled out, relieved to be in the fresh air again, after the oppressive darkness and scent of the den. At the back entrance they found the three warriors standing over the body of the vixen. They were bleeding, but otherwise unhurt.

"She fought like she was possessed, but she didn't have a chance," Longwhisker meowed, his eyes bright from the heat of battle.

"She was protecting her cubs. She wouldn't leave without them, so we had to kill her," explained Swiftstep. "Um, Goldenstripe, about the cubs..."

"Yes?"

"They're still alive."

The deputy followed his gaze to the three small bundles of downy fur, mewling and shivering. Their eyes were still closed, their pointed ears flat against their tiny skulls. They were all a dusky brown.

The warriors stared at them.

"We can't kill them," whispered Dunpelt. "That'd be just like killing kits."

Burntfur spoke up for the first time. She was the oldest warrior, and respected for her experience and fighting skills. Her blue eyes were icy as she meowed, "We have to. They're foxes, for StarClan's sake."

"But they're only cubs," the young dusty-brown warrior countered, turning to face her.

Burntfur met his eyes coldly. "Exactly. _Cubs_."

Swiftstep glanced at the deputy, then meowed, "Dunpelt, they may look like kits, but you have to remember: they'll grow up to be vicious brutes. It's their nature."

Longwhisker moved forward to stand beside his brother Dunpelt, facing Burntfur and Swiftwhisker. "Are you so sure of that?" he growled. "Maybe _they_ think we're vicious brutes. We just killed their parents, after all. Goldenstripe, what do you say?"

Goldenstripe hesitated. She knew she was the deputy: she had to make the decision. But...

She looked at the cubs again. They looked so small, so helpless. She tried to imagine them grown up and raging through the camp, killing cats - and failed. Didn't they owe the baby foxes something? They _had_ killed their parents. Yet at the same time shouldn't they kill the cubs for the same reason they had killed the parents? Could they save these cubs if it posed a risk to the Clan?

With a tired sigh, the deputy meowed, "We'll take them back to camp and let Stonestar decide."

Burntfur bared her teeth in disgust. Swiftstep sighed. Longwhisker and Dunpelt glanced at each other, then at Goldenstripe, and picked up two of the cubs.

Goldenstripe picked up the third, carrying it as if it were a kit - gently, in her strong jaws. she led the way back to camp.

* * *

For the second time that day, Stonestar called a meeting. This time, the shadows were just lengthening, the sky just darkening. The patrol stood at the base of the Tallrock with the cubs on the ground before them, crying pitifully for warmth and milk. The assembled cats watched the tiny foxes - some with wariness, some with pity. Uneasy whispered meows rippled through the crowd. Nightsky - the medicine cat - had his ice-blue eyes narrowed as he wrapped cobwebs around Goldenstripe's injured paw. 

"Report, Goldenstripe," the leader meowed.

The pale-furred deputy raised her head and cleared her throat. "We were forced to kill the adult foxes. They would not leave without their cubs. The fight was difficult, but we are all fine."

Her ears twitched as the medicine cat growled quietly, "Fine? You call this fine? Deputy or not, you're not invincible - and neither are your warriors."

Goldenstripe blinked meekly at him. The old tom was known for his crankiness, even - or perhaps especially - towards injured cats. She continued, to the Clan, "As for the cubs-"

A hoarse voice cut her off. "Yes - what about the cubs? Why did you bring these squalling pieces of mousedung here? You dare to call yourself a deputy when you show such softness towards enemies?"

The deputy's eyes flared fiercely as she tried to struggle to her paws and face the speaker, a skinny grey elder with eyes that were milky with blindness. "_What_ did you say?" she spat.

An authoritative yowl from Stonestar cut them off. "Enough! Sit down - you too, Fogeyes. Goldenstripe, explain yourself."

The deputy exhaled slowly. Her glare could have cut stone as she meowed, "Our patrol was undecided on what to do with the cubs. Two wanted them killed, while two wanted to save them. _I_ decided to bring them back to camp for you to decide."

One again, uneasy murmurs from the Clan.

The dark grey leader stared at the kits, his face more impassive than a wall of stone could ever be.

Goldenstripe's heart thudded against her ribcage. There were cats who would kill the foxes. There were cats who would save them. Whatever Stonestar's decision, there would be conflict. Would these two tiny cubs tear the Clan apart? And if they did...the deputy wasn't sure which side she was on. For a moment she felt the heaviness of destiny; as if all the cats here were caught inextricably in a tangled web woven by StarClan, with the baby foxes at its heart.

Then the moment passed, broken by a cry from the medicine cat beside her. Nightsky leapt to his paws, his blue eyes wide and wild.

"WindClan! StarClan have sent me a sign!"

Goldenstripe realised she had been holding her breath. She let it out. No Clan-cat would defy StarClan's will. She whispered a silent _thank you_ to those watchful ancestors. StarClan would not let WindClan turn on itself.

"I had a vision - I saw the fox cubs," he continued. "They were older, grown up, and they were sharing tongues. Lying under the Tallrock and sharing tongues, like warriors. They _were _warriors. It is StarClan's will that we take these cubs into the Clan and care for them."

Mutters swept through the Clan. Stonestar waved his tail for attention. "StarClan has spoken - so be it. Now we have to consider how to care for the cubs."

A slim queen rose to her paws, a mixture of regret, resignation, concern, anxiety and a mother's instinct swirling in the depths of her green eyes. Her voice was quiet but clear. "I - my kits are..." She stopped, shook her head, eyes clouded with grief for a moment. Then, "I can mother these cubs. I have milk and no kits to drink it."

Stonestar's eyes were considering as he gazed at her. "You really would care for these foxes, Patchedtail?"

The black-and-white cat nodded.

"Very well. You can take them into the nursery now. We will discuss these cubs further when the need arises. WindClan, dismissed."

The cats started to disperse, but were brought up short by a cry from Swiftstep.

"Wait!"

Stonestar narrowed his eyes, then nodded for the warrior to speak.

"Is it...is it really wise to bring them into the nursery? Foxes...they...kits..."

Goldenstripe looked at her brother, and understood. The red-pelted hunters were known to have a fondness for kits' flesh, and Swiftstep's own kits were still in the nursery.

WindClan's leader raised his head. "StarClan has decreed that we care for these cubs as if they were our own kits. We must treat them fairly; the nursery is the best place for Patchedtail to take them. And they are only young - they pose no threat to our kits."

Swiftstep bowed his head, and the meeting broke up.

* * *

In the nursery, safe and dark, Patchedtail nosed the cubs. They smelt unfamiliar, felt unfamiliar, but still...she believed that only on the outside were they different from kits. In youth, in innocence, in vulnerability - they were the same. 

She knew she was lining herself up for heartbreak. She might not ever be a real mother to these foxes. She would never be able to give them fox milk, or teach them a fox way of life.

But she would try her best to teach them the warrior's way of life.

But. But would they accept the Clan, and, more importantly, would the _Clan_ accept them?

She didn't know. She sighed, then jumped as a a gentle tongue licked her ear.

Her sister's eyes shone in the darkness. Heatherfoot was nursing kits herself - Swiftstep's kits. But the mother apparently did not share the father's sentiments.

"Whatever you do, dear, I'll always stand by you. You know that, Patchedtail." The voice was both affectionate and soothing.

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

The amber-eyed queen laughed. "You've never been able to keep your emotions out of your eyes, you know. _And_ you always try to save the world."

She continued, more seriously, "With you to look after them, they'll grow up no different from any other kits."

* * *

In his den, Nightsky laid his head on his paws, deep in thought. He remembered the vision he had seen - that he had related to the Clan, but not the powerful voice in his ears. It was undoubtedly a prophecy, and it sent chills down his spine. _StarClan, please watch over us,_ he prayed. He knew they were always watching, but still. _Look after our Clan._

_"When the enemy raised within the nest spreads its wings, the Clan will take the test and fly or fall."_

* * *

**A/N: How's it? (: Hope you enjoyed it. Review if you wish, I'm keeping the cookies for myself. Muahaha.**_  
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	2. Chasing Butterflies

Sparrowcub leapt for the butterfly. It evaded her, taunting her with a flutter of bright cerise wings, and she tumbled back to earth. The cub sighed in mock despair, then rolled over onto her back to watch it flit away. Her brother sauntered over. "You can't even catch a measly butterfly," he barked, teasing.

"You're good at _talking_, Skycub." Sparrowcub laughed. "I'm sure you've made a lot more progress with those grasshoppers, haven't you?"

"Better than Coppercub, he won't even try," the fox muttered, with a glance at the third and smallest cub, who was sitting under a bush with a faraway expression on his face.

His sister was watching the butterfly again. It had been joined by two more; they danced in the air as if putting up a show for her. Red, blue and yellow wings blurred together in a whirl of bright colour. "Not everyone's a great hunter like you," she murmured absently.

He retorted, "Well, dreaming won't get us anywhere," but she didn't reply.

What Coppercub was, in fact, dreaming about was getting somewhere.

He was the runt. He knew he was the runt. Skycub was the biggest, the strongest, the fiercest, the one they said would make a great warrior. Sparrowcub was the friendly one - she had a way with words, and her smile could endear her to anyone and everyone; they all liked her. But he, Coppercub - he was a runt. The other cubs all had so much to give to the Clan, but he? He had nothing. And that made it so much harder to fit in. They were all different, but he was even _more_ different.

From the moment they were old enough to know, they'd always known they were different. It was laughably obvious, in appearance and from the way the cats faced them - some with caution, some with pity, some with open hostility. The only one who treated them as if they were cats was their foster mother.

Patchedtail's words echoed in their minds all the time. _You may be different outside, but that is why you have to show them all that you are no different inside. You have to be twice as good as kits and work twice as hard as apprentices. You cannot lie, or fight, or disobey. If you do, they will look at you as dirty cunning foxes and not as Clanmates. But I believe that character is shaped not by whether you're a fox or cat, but how you're brought up. Those who do not share this view - and there are many - will make your life difficult. It may seem unfair, but that's the way the world is. My dears - smile and be brave, and you will go far._

They had all seen the pain in her eyes as she spoke. She truly did care for them as she would care for her own flesh and blood.  
Coppercub pricked his ears as someone called his name. Ah - it was Patchedtail.

The black-and-white she-cat beckoned her cubs with her tail. "Time for your nap," she meowed, and herded them into the nursery.

* * *

Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the thick gorse wall that surrounded the camp. The foxes' fur glowed a beautiful russet red;

Patchedtail could not help smiling as she looked at them. They were so beautiful. Skycub and Sparrowcub scuffled together, laughing.

Then the dog-fox tripped up the watching Coppercub, pulling him, albeit reluctantly, into the fray. "Ha! Take that, rogue!" Heatherfoot's four kits came tumbling out of the nursery to join in. There were four of them, as different from each other as they were from the foxes.

Their mother padded out after them and sat down beside Patchedtail, smiling companionably. They watched the young ones play. "Your kits are getting big, aren't they? When'll their ceremony be?

Heatherfoot purred. "Today. Sundown. I'll be glad to get them off my back," she added with a sigh of mock exhaustation.

"You must be really proud."

"Of course! You should be, too. Those foxes are so big. I remember when they were just little scraps of fur." Their foster mother laughed. "Aren't all young creatures the same? They-"

She stopped as she heard a fox growl. "What is it, Skycub? Flintkit?"

The big cub had his lips pulled back to show his teeth. One of Heatherfoot's kits, a dark brown tabby, faced off with him - older than the cub, but slightly smaller. Gazes locked and fangs bared, they were oblivious to the world around them.  
Flintkit narrowed green eyes and hissed. He was the spitting image of his father - literally. "You dirty red creatures don't belong in our Clan!"

The three foxes flinched as one. The words hit home much too hard, perhaps because of the grain of truth they held. Skycub snarled.

"Why not? We have a right to be here as much as you do!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! StarClan said we belong, so we do! We-"

He was cut off by a hard cuff from his foster mother. Patchedtail had a slight build but a strong paw. He didn't think he had ever seen her so angry in his young life.

_"What exactly is going on here?"_

There was a thunderous silence. Heatherfoot had Flintkit pinned down firmly too.

Then Tallkit - the eldest of the two litters - mumbled, "We were - playing and Sparrowcub said let's play a game. And Flintkit said - he said let the foxes be enemies and we cats drive them out of here. And Skycub got really really angry and they started shouting at each other." There was a pause. Patchedtail and Heatherfood exchanged glances. In silent agreement, they each gathered their young ones with sweeps of the tail and Heatherfoot disappeared into the nursery with her kits. "It wasn't fair. Did you hear what he called us? What he said?" Skycub's eyes were burning. Sparrowcub looked guilty, while Coppercub just stared at his paws.

"Shut up," Patchedtail hissed sharply. Then she looked shocked at herself for a moment, and bowed her head. When she lifted it again, the rage was gone.

"I'm sorry, cubs. I know you must think that everyone treats you unfairly, and maybe you are right. But StarClan has given you this destiny...now you are scorned and hated, but remember what I said to you. You have to prove them all wrong, for your own sake."

"Flintkit was wrong. But so were you when you flared up against him, Skycub. Please - oh, you have to learn to control yourselves. All of you. You are going to have such a hard time..."

She shook her head, at a loss for words. How could she explain to them? _StarClan, give them strength, courage and a knowledge of just when to keep their muzzles shut and sit tight,_ she prayed.

At sunset, Stonestar called the Clan together. The cubs were too young to attend, but they watched from the nursery entrance.

"Tonight," he began gravely, "we are gathered here to welcome four young cats into the Clan."

His gaze swept the assembled cats. "Tallkit, Lightkit, Flintkit, Barkkit - come forward."

They obeyed, whiskers trembling with excitement and pride. Heatherfoot looked just as proud as her kits.

Stonestar's voice rang out across the camp as he spoke the time-honoured words.

"I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this kit. He would like to become a warrior of WindClan, but must first become an apprentice. Tallkit, from this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Tallpaw." The leader's gaze found Swiftstep, the kits' father. "Swiftstep, you are an intelligent and quick-witted warrior. Do your best to pass on these qualities to Tallpaw."

Mentor and apprentice - father and son - touched noses, then withdrew. The new black-and-white apprentice's eyes shone.

The huge grey leader continued. "I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this kit. Before she can be a warrior of WindClan, she must first become an apprentice. Lightkit, from this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Lightpaw. And Greenfern, you are a loyal warrior - you will mentor her." Lightpaw touched noses with her new mentor, her trembling stilled by his reassuring gaze.

"I call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this kit. He desires to be a warrior of WindClan, but must first become an apprentice. Flintkit, from this day forth, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Flintpaw." Stonestar's eyes rested on a wiry grey striped tom. "Hillwind. You are an experienced and courageous warrior; do your best to pass on these qualities to Flintpaw."

Stonestar raised his head now, and when he spoke he spoke to the whole Clan.

"Those three will become good warriors, but StarClan has chosen a different path for Barkkit."

With some difficulty, Nightsky scrambled up on the Tallrock to stand beside Stonestar. The black tom's blue gaze swept across the Clan till it came to rest on little Barkkit. Hoarsely, he meowed, "WindClan. Quite obviously, I am getting old." There was dry amusement in his voice. "It's time for me to take on an apprentice. Barkkit needs seasoning, but in time I believe he's make a passable medicine cat. He has the passion for it; all he needs to gain," the medicine cat added with a glare at the young tom, "is the patience and skill."

Barkkit looked slightly sheepish, but very proud. It wasn't often you heard the bad-tempered healer say a good word of any cat. But it was true that Heatherfoot's youngest had spent much of his kithood poking his nose into Nightsky's den, braving scoldings and cuffs to find out more about what those mysterious-smelling herbs did.

Stonestar took over. "Barkkit, do you promise to work hard and do your best to serve the Clan as a medicine cat apprentice?"

The tiny brown tabby raised his head. "I do!"

"From this moment forth till you have proved yourself worthy of a full name, you will be known as Barkpaw. At the new moon, you will accompany Nightsky to the Moonstone to be initiated into your role."

The Clan raised their voices to welcome the four young cats, joyous and loud. "Tallpaw! Lightpaw! Flintpaw! Barkpaw!"

"I wonder when it'll be our turn," Skycub whispered to his siblings in the darkness of the nursery.


End file.
